Stranger Things than Magic
by alphashley14
Summary: Eleven doesn't know why she's still alive. She doesn't know any other life than the one in Hawkins Lab, but she knows that there are better ones out there than this one. Rumpelstiltskin can always sense a desperate soul. But how could one so desperate possibly belong to a child?
1. Chapter 1

"_Today, we make history. Today, we make contact."_

Eleven wished she had never encountered that monster the last time. That's exactly what it was. A monster. There was no other way to describe the glimpse that she'd seen. If she hadn't encountered it, then Papa wouldn't be making her go look for it, again.

The sensory deprivation tank was dark, and the water was neither cold nor warm. The small space made Eleven's insides squirm with claustrophobia, and the glass helmet on her shoulders holding the precious air keeping her alive made it even worse.

But there was no pain in here. No cold, calculating eyes on her, though she knew the people in white coats were watching and listening to the machines monitoring her carefully. And the soldiers just outside the tank were on guard diligently, prepared to pounce to stop her from getting away. She knew they were out there, but she couldn't see them.

Inside the tank, inside her own little world, there was only her and her own fear.

She hated it out there. But she hated it here even more.

And there was only one way out.

_Find it. _

Eleven closed her eyes and let her consciousness spread and the power that only she possessed tingle, looking for it, searching for it, until finally, she felt a cold surface beneath her feet and when she opened her eyes, she wasn't in the tank, anymore.

Eleven didn't have a name for this place. But it was black, cold, and infinite. Just black up, north, south, east, and west stretching out flat with no end as far as the eye could see. The surface beneath her bare feet was smooth and cold and black, covered in about a centimeter of water that made such pretty ripples each time she took a step. This place was odd. There was no source of light, and it was so black, and yet it wasn't dark. When she looked down, she could see herself perfectly with no shadow. And when she looked out-

She could see _it_.

It didn't see her. It was eating. Eleven didn't know what it was eating. Eleven _didn't want to know _what it was eating.

_Make contact_.

Eleven didn't want to make contact. She never wanted to see it again. It was ugly, and the energy it gave off was dark and frightening. _Evil_. She didn't know where she'd heard that word before, but it was evil.

And yet, she gathered her courage and her legs carried her forwards, fingers reaching out to touch its tough, leathery hide. But just inches away from it, Eleven stopped. They could see her brain activity, and they could hear what was going on in here. But how was Papa to know if she stopped right now, walked away, wandered around for a little while, then told them that she couldn't find it?

No.

That wouldn't work.

Papa could always tell when she told lies.

And yet- she wasn't going to do it. Eleven didn't know much about instinct, but her insides were squirming oh so unpleasantly and she just _knew _that if she made contact with this- this _thing_, something terrible was going to happen and there would be no going back.

And so, for once in her life, Eleven made a decision for herself and went against what _they _wanted. For her own sake, for _their _sake, and though she had never met them, for the sake of everyone who lived in the world outside of the lab. She drew her fingers back, turned, and she ran. Behind her, she heard it screech, but she ran. The water splashed beneath her toes and she tasted blood on her tongue, running out of her nose. But still, she fled. She fled and she did not stop until it was long gone. And she was alone in the black.

_Keep looking_.

Eleven was lucky. Papa didn't know that she had run away from _it_.

But he still wanted her to keep looking.

Eleven wasn't going to look for it. Papa would be angry, and it was scary when Papa got angry. But still, Eleven wasn't going to look for it. Because she knew what they didn't know. She knew what their foolish curiosity blinded them to. What they wanted her to look for wasn't something that was ever meant to be found. And if the thing that was never meant to be found was found, then something terrible would happen. Something scarier than Papa could ever be.

So, she was in here anyway, who or what would she look for?

Eleven had always wondered about something. And she had asked her Papa before, but he had never given her an answer.

_Are there others like me?_

Could there possibly be someone out there like her? Even if they couldn't do the _exact_ same things she could, was there someone out there who could do things no one else could? Someone who may very well be just as alone as she was?

If there was, she would find them. Not for Papa, not for _them_, but for herself. She never got to do anything for herself. Maybe, just this once, she would do something that _she _wanted to do.

Again, she closed her eyes. This was much harder than anything she'd ever tried before, because she didn't know exactly who or what she was looking for. When they had made her look for Russians, she always had a picture to reference from. When she was looking for the creature, she had already seen it. All she had now was a blurry image in her head that she didn't even know existed.

She searched and searched until she was considering giving up. But then-

There they were. And there were _so many _of them. There weren't any close by, but they were there. And one in particular drew Eleven's attention more than the rest.

He was very far away, but Eleven knew he was powerful. _Very _powerful. And he was alone. Just like her. He was so far away that Eleven was sure that the only reason she could sense him at all was because of what he was doing right now. His mind was calm and open, attempting to calm the sadness, frustration, loneliness, and anger brewing inside.

Eleven didn't know what his life was like to make him feel that way, but Eleven knew exactly how he felt. She'd felt the same way for her entire life. She couldn't remember ever not feeling that way.

Who was he? Who was this man who was like her, and yet not like her? Eleven wanted to see him. She wanted to know who he was. She wanted to know that she was not alone.

She opened her eyes.

And there he was.

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin was spinning. He did that quite a lot. It helped him forget. It was so easy to just forget. He would never let himself forget forever, but it was nice to let it go, just for a little while.

_Straw goes in, gold comes out_. The squeak of the wheel and the wood and thread beneath his fingers was a familiar, soothing sensation that let him disappear inside himself for a while and just forget. How lonely he was, how desperate he was, how many people hated him, and above all else, how much he missed Bae.

But, just because spinning helped calm him, did not mean that it made him drop his guard. Which is exactly why he froze when he felt it. A desperate soul.

It was so close, and yet so far away. His eyes scanned the room, and he let his magic out to scan every square inch of the Dark Castle, but he was alone in its stone walls. And yet, he knew he was not.

Rumple stood up from his stool so fast it fell over, but he paid it no mind. He was on high alert. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It wasn't often that _anything _surprised or frightened him, and yet his pulse was quickening. He let his magic scan the castle again. There was someone here, and yet there was someone not here. It was a paradox he had never encountered before. He was so old, it wasn't often that he encountered something new. It both fascinated and alarmed him at the same time and he found himself asking aloud, "I know you're here, dearie. Who's there?"

* * *

He- he could see her?

Eleven had found people many times. But she had always been an outsider. No one had ever acknowledged her before or known she was watching.

Eleven was fascinated by him. Without a doubt, he _was _different. But he was not like her. He wasn't like anyone Eleven had ever seen. His skin was a golden tan color, and it was textured, like it would feel rough if she touched it. His fingernails were dark in color and his crooked teeth were stained. He had gotten up from the wooden device he had been sitting at and his unnatural-looking, almost reptilian brown eyes were looking around for her.

A lot of people might be frightened and while Eleven was certainly startled at first, she wasn't afraid. Just a little surprised. She had seen far more frightening things than him. She had experienced more frightening things, too. And while the aura he was giving off was certainly not friendly, it wasn't _evil_. Evil had touched him, definitely. And she wasn't certain about whether or not evil _ruled _him. But evil had touched her, too. _Like me, but also not like me._

Eleven didn't talk very often, so the words came out with spaces in between, and they felt unnatural and heavy coming off her tongue. But still, she swallowed, gathered her courage, and asked-

* * *

"_You… see… me?"_

Rumpelstiltskin knew he had invited an answer by asking a question, but he still jumped at the sound of the voice. It echoed all around him without a particular source, and yet he could hear it. Honestly, what really surprised him was how small it was. _A child? Such a desperate soul. Could it really be a child?_

"No." Rumple said, softening his tone. "But I can feel you, dearie. I know you're here."

"_I… see… you." _The voice said again. A child. It really was a child.

"Ye can see me?" Rumple asked.

"_Yes."_

"Who are you?"

"_You?"_ The voice asked.

"Names are valuable things, dearie. I asked who you are. You tell me, I'll tell you."

"_Can- cannot."_

"Why not?" He asked.

"_Bad… Papa said no."_

Bad people? Or was it the child's Papa that was bad? In either case, he was sure now that he was definitely talking to an actual child, not some demon or another mage impersonating one. He was also sure now that he was talking to a little girl. That last sentence, her voice had changed in pitch just enough that he could tell the voice was definitely female. And whoever she was, she was in trouble.

"Alright sweetheart, calm down, calm down." He said, sensing she was getting upset. A memory popped into the back of his mind, of talking in a similar voice to Bae when he was little and scared. He quickly squashed it back down. Now was no time for _him _to be getting upset. "You won't tell me yer name, and my name is a little hard to pronounce, dearie. And it doesn't sound like you talk all that well. So let's compromise. I won't tell you my whole name, but you can call me Rum if you want."

"_Com-pruh-my-sss?"_

"Ye know, meet in the middle. Neither of us are getting what we want, so we'll both get _part_ of what we want. So, if I don't get your name, may I ask what you're doing here?"

"_You… like me."_

"Are you asking about whether or not I like you, or if I _am _like you?"

"_Similar."_

_The second one, then. _"Well, I don't know anything about you, dearie. So I can't say whether or not we have anything in common, can I?"

"_You… powers?"_

"You really don't know who you're talking to, do you?" Rumple said with his signature giggle.

"_No. You… diff-erent?" _

"Are you asking whether or not I'm different than other people?"

"_Yes."_

"Then yes, I'd say I'm a bit of an anomaly. Are you different, too?"

"_Yes. I do things… no one else can do. You… alone?"_

He tried not to think of Belle or Bae. "Yes dearie, I live alone. Do you?"

The voice hesitated, then replied in a frightened whisper, "_No."_

"Do you live with bad people?" Rumple asked quietly, calmly standing up his stool again and sitting on it.

"_Yes."_

"Are they hurting you? For being able to do things they can't?"

The child didn't reply.

"I take that as a yes, then. Maybe I can help you, dearie. Do you know where you are?"

"_Bad place."_

"Yes, but where?"

Again, she didn't respond.

"You don't know?"

"_No."_

"I want to help you, dearie. But I can't if I don't know your name or where you are."

"_Thank you."_ The little girl said.

"For what? Sweetheart, I haven't done anything."

"_Yes. You did."_

"What did I do?" He asked.

"_I know… I'm not alone."_

And then, she was gone. And he was left alone with only his thoughts, and his castle, and the wheel.

* * *

Eleven didn't know what the word for the wonderful feeling in her gut was, just that she had never felt it, before. She could best describe it as a flicker. A small flicker of light stubbornly burning on a candle that had never been lit before and now stubbornly refused to go out.

She would learn later that it was called _hope._

Eleven really hadn't wanted to cut their conversation short. She could have stayed and talked to Rum forever. He was so kind. But she had felt the scientists starting to open the tank, and she had had to say goodbye.

Eleven didn't think her Papa had ever been this angry with her. But despite how red in the face he was and the blood running out of Eleven's nostrils, she couldn't wipe the smile off her face. _I am not alone. _

The moment the helmet was off her head, Papa struck her across the face so hard that coupled with the exhaustion at finding the monster, then fleeing from it and finding and talking to Rum instead, Eleven passed out.

She didn't know how much time passed. Minutes? Hours? Days? But when she came to, she was in the dark room. The small dark room. The one Papa locked her in when she didn't do what she was told. Eleven's heart raced and her stomach churned and she stood up and slammed her body into the door the moment she figured out where she was. Her claustrophobia made her skin crawl and her heart hammer in time with her fists banging on the door and the walls. It usually didn't take her long to give up. But the candle hadn't been lit before, and it was now. And that tiny flicker of light in the darkness fueled Eleven as she banged and screamed and flailed until finally, after what seemed like days, she collapsed boneless on the hard, cold floor. Everything throbbed, her knuckles, feet, and knees were bloody, and her voice was sore from screeching, but even as she finally drifted off, shaking and terrified and alone, Eleven thought of Rum, the one who was like her and yet not like her, and smiled.

Her dreams were of a big, stone building that she was pretty sure was called a _castle_ surrounded by giant steep hills of earth that she'd only heard about that were called _mountains_, covered in a cold white powder that had to be _snow_. And her dreams were of him, too. Sitting at the strange wooden wheel turning straw into gold.

For the first time in her life, Eleven's dreams were pleasant. But her reality remained a nightmare. She awoke hours later still in the dark room, and her claustrophobia tormented her nonstop. She didn't know how long her Papa kept her in there, but it had to be longer than she had ever been locked in there before. Until she was so hungry that she was sure her growling stomach was a monster gnawing on her insides, she was so thirsty and her mouth and throat were so dry that she couldn't make a sound even if she wanted to, and she felt so weak she could barely move. And yet, that flicker of light still stubbornly burned, bright and strong and beautiful. Ignited by a single kind connection. It seemed like an eternity passed when Eleven was finally taken out of the dark, small space.

"_Reckless."_

"_He could have killed it!"_

"_She needs fluids and nutrients, now!"_

"_No! Run diagnostics, first! We need to know what effect the deprivation had on it!"_

Papa's voice was the loudest one of all of them. "This is all your fault, Eleven. You were a very bad girl. If you would just do what you were told, I wouldn't have to punish you."

Maybe he was right. But still, that little taste of rebellion had tasted so good. And as needles were injected into her arms to replenish her frail body, Eleven looked forward to the next time she would be put in the tank, where she had every intention of doing it again.

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin spent hours at the wheel in the weeks that followed. Listening intently, or just letting his mind go blank. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get that desperate little soul out of his mind. He couldn't just push aside and forget that somewhere out there, a child, potentially a _magical _child, was out there suffering. Usually, that wouldn't bother him. The world was filled with children, and not all of them were in the best place. That was just an unavoidable fact of life.

But this one had reached out. Not to anyone, to _him_.

His damn parental instincts probably had something to do with it, too. That little voice couldn't help but remind him of Bae.

And for those reasons, he could not help but feel some sort of responsibility to reach right back and help her.

But he couldn't.

He didn't have details, a location, what the child looked like, or even a name.

It was absolutely maddening.

The part of the Dark One inside him that liked to watch him suffer was absolutely loving it, but Rumpelstiltskin buried it deep down and paid it no mind. He had been doing it for centuries and wasn't about to start listening to it, now.

Just when he was starting to think he was never going to hear that little voice again, it was back.

"_Rum?"_

He'd been sitting at the wheel again, muttering to himself, when he heard it. And again, he jumped.

"I was starting to think I was never going to hear from you again, dearie." Rumple said, standing up.

"_Dear-ie?"_

"It's just something you can call someone. You can say it to be endearing or condescending. Depends on how you feel about them. Call it a quirk of mine, I call everyone that."

He heard a little giggle, and he smiled.

"_You… do things." _

"Yes, dearie. We talked about that last time. I can do things. And apparently, you can too."

"_Show me?"_

Rumple quirked a smile before reaching out and making a teacup float into his hands. He heard the little echoing voice gasp followed by a sound of delight that made his smile broaden. It wasn't often that the sight of his magic actually made someone _happy_.

"_You are. Like me." _

"So, you can do that too?"

"_Yes. You do it… better."_

"Oh. How so?"

"_I bleed."_

"You bleed? Where?"

He heard her sniff. _Oh, she gets nosebleeds. _His brain had been drifting off in an entirely different direction. Strange, he had never heard of a mage getting a nosebleed when they tried to use magic, before.

"So, you can do things, but your nose bleeds whenever you do it?"

"_Yes."_

"My nose has never bled before. So, dearie, I know that you might not want to tell me, but might I ask your name?"

"_No."_

"Alright. May I ask where you are?"

"_Bad place."_

"Right. Bad place. And you don't know where that bad place is." Rumple rubbed his temples and sighed. "I can't help you if I don't know anything about you. I don't know where you are, what you look like, or even your name. If I could find you, I could help you. You could even stay with me if you wanted to."

"_You can't."_

"I can't help? Why not?"

"_It's not safe."_

* * *

They ripped her out of the tank even faster this time. But Eleven was happy. She'd been able to find him again. He was out there. He existed. And he really was like her. She'd seen it. She'd _seen it!_

Papa hit her, again. But she didn't pass out this time. When she didn't pass out, Papa grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, not bothering to dry her off or even remove the device from her head, and half-dragged her down the stairs and out of the room, flanked by other scientists and guards. Eleven didn't like the glint in his eyes. He wasn't bothering with the nice act, anymore.

He'd been pulling it a lot in the past month, trying to manipulate her into doing what he wanted. But Eleven was simply tired of it. Until she'd met Rum, she hadn't even been entirely sure about why she was still alive. She'd suspected that there were better lives outside the lab, but now she _knew_. She knew for certain that outside these walls was a place of greener pastures. And she decided right then that she wasn't going to stop until she was _out_.

"You've been a bad girl, Eleven." He snarled. "A very bad girl. Bad things happen to bad girls. All you had to do was find it. But instead you- _who was he, _Eleven?"

Eleven glared at him and stubbornly kept her mouth shut. She didn't know enough about Rum to tell them anything they could use even if she wanted to. But she didn't feel like playing by Papa's rules anymore.

"_Answer me!"_ He hissed.

"No." Eleven said firmly.

"What did you just say?"

_You can say it to be endearing or condescending. Depends on how you feel about them. _

"No. Dear-ie."

With a growl of frustration, he shook her and pushed her away from him. "Take her out of my sight."

Eleven hadn't seen the two other workers approaching her, but she could feel them now. Their big, meaty hands gripping her firmly by her arms. Eleven remembered the last time men had grabbed her like this. She'd been so scared and so angry, she'd hurt them. She'd- Eleven didn't want to think about that. But she couldn't help it. She was scared, now.

"No! NO!" She shouted and dug her bare heels into the tile to no avail but they picked her up by her arms so her feet weren't touching the floor and there was no resistance. "Bad! BAD! NO! PAPA!" Eleven screeched.

"This is all your fault, Eleven. Bad things happen to bad girls."

* * *

"Dearie?" Rumple called. There was no response. "Dearie? Are you still here?" He asked louder. "DEARIE!" But she was gone. "DAMN IT!" He shouted.

Of their own accord, the windows shattered. What the hell ever, he'd fix them when he was calm enough that he knew he wouldn't break them again. Growling with frustration and yanking at his hair from the roots, Rumple collapsed back onto his stool. _Think!_

He could spin, but forgetting was not what he wanted to do right now.

_It's not safe._

Such a kind little girl. Despite all the danger she was in, despite how frightened she was, she was worried about _him _getting hurt! He was the Dark One, for god's sake! Rumple swore right then that if he ever came face to face with whoever it was that was hurting this child, there was going to be hell to pay!

That was it. He was going to do something. He _had _to do something! The only problem was that he had no idea what.

_If Belle were here, she'd be marching straight up to the Library._

Actually, that was probably the smartest thing to do right now. In fact, it was the _only _thing he could do right now. He hadn't read every book he owned and he was most certainly _not _in his comfort zone.

Under normal circumstances, Rumple tried his hardest to avoid the library. Every nook and cranny of the place reminded him of Belle even more than the rest of the bloody castle did. But, these were certainly not normal circumstances.

Knowing he needed to burn off steam and not wanting to think about what was being done to that sweet little girl, Rumple marched out of the hall and walked the entire way to the library instead of using magic to get there. Huffing from going up the stairs, he snatched the first potentially useful-looking book he saw, opened it as fiercely as he could without ripping it, and started looking.

Hours passed. Dark, thick clouds had completely blocked out the sunset and rain was beginning to blanket the castle when Rumple found the first bit of information that may or may not be relevant.

It had come from a book he had acquired (stolen) from one Dr. Frankenstein but hadn't had time to read. Magic and science were two entirely different things, this was something Rumple was very aware of, and the difference between the two was that Science could, with enough experimentation and study done by someone intelligent enough, be logically explained. Magic on the other hand outright broke the laws that '_science'_ set in place. Still, Rumple found it beneficial to check in on the scientific minds every now and then. Without magic to aid them, they looked for other ways of achieving their goals. In Dr. Frankenstein's land for instance, mankind had discovered how to create light without fire using some strange yet non-magical force that Frankenstein had called _electricity_.

However, the book that he was looking at wasn't about electricity at all. In fact, it was an entirely theoretical book that talked about something called a 'parallel universe', which from what he understood was something like a realm, but it wasn't a realm. It was like another version of their world that existed right alongside it. And the particular parallel universe that this book was talking about, while entirely theoretical, was simply called "_The Upside Down"_. Most of the book other than that used big words in the language of science that he simply didn't have the education to understand nor the time to look up. _Belle would have loved this book_.

Shaking his head, Rumple went back to the table of contents and read the titles of each chapter until he found one that could possibly be relevant. Just as he was about to toss the book aside into the rest of the pile, he decided to give one particular chapter a glance. He flipped to the right page and started to read.

'_As discussed in the previous chapter, it would take an extraordinary amount of energy to potentially open a gateway between our world and that of the Upside Down. Energy that, while not possible to be generated with our current technology, may someday be harnessed by man in the future. Still, despite its absurdity, I find it important to bring up another scientific theory concerning certain individuals with mysterious abilities.'_

After reading that next part, Rumple came to the conclusion that he was reading a scientist trying to come up with a scientific explanation for magic, set the book aside to read later, and picked out the next book that might be of use.

It was nearing midnight, Rumple was _really _starting to wish that Belle was still with him to help him with this, and the rain outside had turned into a tempest. The wind shook the trees, lightning illuminated the castle and surrounding mountains, and thunder boomed and crashed overhead.

But still, above the din of the storm, Rumple heard it.

"_Rum… help me." _

Rumple dropped the book he was reading and did the only thing he could think of to do. This child was reaching out, he reached right back. "Come on, sweetheart." He said, closing his eyes tight and concentrating as hard as he could, "I want to help you but I can't do it alone."

"_Help me. Help me! Hurts! STOP! BAD! BAD!" _

Rumple was no longer certain if she was even talking to him, or if he was overhearing her pleas for mercy from someone else. And the thought made his heart clench painfully in his chest. Around him, the candles flickered, then went out and a mysterious wind started making the books rapidly flip through their pages. Rumple _was _certain that it wasn't _his_ magic at work.

He knew that chances were that they couldn't hear him but still he found himself shouting, "LEAVE HER ALONE!"

The echoing voice let out one last echoing scream of terror and agony before everything suddenly went silent and still.

"Dearie?" He called, his heart hammering. "DEARIE!"

He was just about to call out once more when- _Sweet Lord! What in the name of magic is that?! _ It was the largest energy that Rumple had ever sensed. It made him spin around and stare in its direction. It was less than a mile from the castle. He ran to the window, trying to get a glimpse of whatever it was. At first, he didn't see anything out in the dark. Just the rain in the torchlight and the occasional illumination of the castle's walls and the mountains from the lightning. And yet, the energy was there. It was growing and swelling to a level that was so overwhelmingly powerful that it made him, the Dark One, take a step back and away from the window.

The energy suddenly plummeted.

Then-

There was a deafening crack and a blinding flash of light. It was so loud, and the force of the blast was so powerful, that it sent Rumple flying backwards off of his feet and into an adjacent wall and the entire castle shook so hard that books started falling off of their shelves. It crossed his mind that lightning had struck the castle. But once Rumple's wits returned to him, he sensed it. A desperate soul. Such a small, frail desperate soul in the exact spot that the energy had been emitting from. Not hesitating for another minute, Rumple donned his cloak in a swirl of magic and in another swirl, he vanished out into the storm.

The clearing he appeared in hadn't been there before. In fact, he knew for certain that this very spot had been forest just an hour ago. The trees were blown apart, torn from their roots, and strewn about the forest floor from the force of the blast of energy that had exploded in the center of the clearing. Rumple's eyes scanned through the dark for signs of life. He just knew that whoever was out here was that same little voice that had called out to him.

"Hello?" He shouted above the din of thunder.

Sensing a presence, he turned around. He found himself face to face with a small, shaking, dirty, exhausted, soaking wet little girl. Her head was shaved (for a moment he mistook her for a boy) the gown she wore (if you could call it that) was streaked with mud, and there was a small trickle of blood running out of not only both nostrils, but also out of each of her ears. When their eyes met, she smiled. And Rumple had a feeling that it was the first time she had truly smiled in a great long while. Her little fingers reached out and brushed against the leather of his jacket, testing if he was really there, and her smile widened even more when she realized that he was real.

"Rum…" She mumbled. Then she collapsed face-first into his arms.

Rumpelstiltskin recovered from his shock in an instant. He picked up the child, wrapped her in his cloak, and vanished back to the warmth and safety of his castle in a swirl of burgundy red smoke.


	2. Chapter 2

As sound and sensation slowly returned to Eleven, the first thing she realized was that she had never felt so comfortable in all her life. She could have laid there in peace with her eyes closed for hours. But then a very strange sound met her ears. It was high pitched yet pleasant, a _song _of sorts. Come to think of it, she had heard the birds the scientists kept in cages make sounds just like that. But they always sounded upset or sad. These birds sounded merry. The fog of sleep slowly dispersed itself from her mind and Eleven suddenly remembered. _I talked to Rum again. Papa was angry. Pain. Fear. They hurt me. I reached out- he reached back- what happened after that?_

Eleven's eyes snapped open. Too fast, much too fast. The light blinded her momentarily, so Eleven closed them again, then opened them more slowly to let her retinas adjust. The light was coming from an open window. There was a light, sweet smelling breeze that blew the lace curtains in the most pretty way. The walls were made of stone, not concrete, and there was a carpet over the wooden floor. The bed she was laying in was huge. She hadn't known a bed this big existed. And the bedding was the softest thing Eleven had ever slept on. The sheets were white and clean, and the comforter was a purplish red color. Eleven sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes to look around some more. There was an unlit candle by the bed on a little table, and there was a wooden thing with a mirror, which was covered up, that Eleven wasn't familiar with but that you, the reader, would know is called a dresser. There was also a wooden box at the foot of the bed, and beyond that on the other side of the room there was a hole in the wall with some burnt wood in it but no fire, an unlit fireplace. And in between the fireplace and the dresser was an old wooden door. But the window was open and the room was so big that Eleven didn't feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. There was a ring of metal hung from the ceiling with unlit candles all around its circumference, a _chandelier. _And when Eleven looked down at herself, she was wearing something that was much too big for her, but that she liked much more than the clothes she had worn all her life. The fabric was mustard yellow and made of silk, and there was a row of wooden buttons going down the front of it. All of Eleven's injuries from when Papa had made the bad men hurt her, as well as injuries she couldn't remember getting, had been carefully treated and bandaged with gauze that didn't itch.

Eleven got out of bed. The carpet beneath her bare feet felt pleasant. Nothing like the cold, hard floors she had trodden on for her entire life. She walked over to the window. The view brought tears to her eyes. It was _outside. _Eleven had never even _seen _outside before. The sky was blue, and it was _big_. It was so _big_, and it was dotted with fluffy white clouds. She could see a great stone wall and a great iron gate, and inside the wall was a beautiful garden of flowers of every color. And outside the wall, she could see mountains covered in trees for as far as she could see. And birds, _free birds_, not birds in cages, flew through the air and sang little songs to each other.

It was the most beautiful thing Eleven had ever seen.

Eleven's bliss was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. On instinct, she rushed from the window and ducked behind the bed. She couldn't bring herself to hide under it. The space looked too cramped.

A set of footsteps entered the room and then froze as the person saw that she was no longer in bed. "Dearie?" A voice called out cautiously. Eleven knew that voice.

She wet her mouth and her lips with her tongue and then timidly answered, "Rum?" In a quiet voice. But not quiet enough that he didn't hear her. Eleven heard the sound of a tray being set down on the dresser and the footsteps came around the side of the bed.

"What're you doing down there?" Rum asked kindly with a small smile and a quirky tilt of his head. Eleven swallowed nervously, but she didn't move. Rum was here. _In person. _How? She certainly wasn't at the bad place anymore. Was it possible- was she at his home? But how had she gotten there?

"It's alright." He said, in a tone as though talking to a spooked horse, "I'm not like them. I'm not going to hurt you." He knelt down to her level so that he didn't look so much bigger or more imposing than her. "You were asleep for a long time. Are you feeling alright?"

Eleven nodded.

"That's good. I'm glad. I brought you something to eat in case you were awake. Are you hungry?"

As if on cue, Eleven's stomach growled. She hadn't realized her hunger, but the mere mention of food made her stomach snarl with it.

Rum giggled. She'd never heard a man laugh like that, before. It was high pitched and silly, and it made her crack a smile. "I take that as a yes, then. Alright then, I'm going to bring you a tray. Would you like to sit on the bed and eat it? It's rather odd to sit down here on the floor, isn't it?"

Eleven slowly nodded. Rum smiled and disappeared around the side of the bed, again. Eleven stood up from her huddled position and hopped up to sit on the bed. It reminded her of jumping up to sit on cold, hard metal tables back at the bad place, but the landing was much softer. Rum brought her a tray. There was a plate with some fruit and what looked like very strange bread. It was round and flat, and there were two of them stacked on top of each other. As hungry as Eleven was, she ignored the food and went for the glass of water, first. She gulped it down so fast that it made Rum say, "Careful Dearie, I wouldn't want ye to choke."

When she finished the water, she picked up a piece of fruit. She'd never had fresh fruit before. She'd had fruit, but the bananas were always going brown and they did something to them at the lab to keep them fresh, longer. These looked like they had been taken right out of the garden. And when she took a bite out of a strawberry, they tasted like they had been taken right out of the garden, too. Sweet and juicy.

Eleven ate the fruit ravenously. And once it was gone, she was still hungry, but the flat bread was new, and like with any child, it made Eleven cautious.

"Do you not like pancakes?" Rum asked.

Eleven looked at him, confused.

"My God, you've never _had_ pancakes." He said, as though it were some sort of crime or tragedy.

"Pan… cakes?" Eleven asked.

"Try one. You use a fork. I can show you if you don't know how-" He started to move towards her, but that made Eleven flinch. Logically, in her mind, Eleven knew she had no reason to be afraid of Rum. He was her beacon, the source of the spark that had lit that spark inside her. And yet, still, out of habit, she shrank back.

He looked a little hurt, but he didn't say anything about it. "Is it alright if I sit over here, then?" He asked, and he sat on the foot of the bed as far away from her as he could without sliding off. Eleven nodded.

Then she took the fork and used the side of it to cut a corner off of the '_pancakes'_, stabbed the piece with the fork, and took a bite.

It was probably the most wonderful thing Eleven had ever put in her mouth.

* * *

Rumple smiled as he watched the child try pancakes for the first time. He smiled even wider when she started ravenously devouring them. Inside his mind though, the wheels in his head were turning.

Someone had hurt that child. The injuries he'd spent hours treating were enough to warrant suspicion, and the way she flinched at his approach confirmed it. She looked at everything as if it were new or interesting. She was even using the fork a little awkwardly, as though she didn't use one very often. And he didn't miss how her eyes kept turning to stare in absolute awe out the window as she chewed.

It made him wonder how long exactly she had been at the '_bad place'_. Her whole life? Had she ever _seen _mountains or a castle before? Or even the sky?

Which brought him to his next question: what and where _was _the '_bad place'? _The garments she'd been wearing when she had arrived were like nothing Rumple had ever seen before. It was like a very ugly, thin, downright cheap dress or gown of sorts. White, with dots all over it. And she'd been wearing a weird device on her head with lots of wires and things he might expect to see in Dr. Frankenstein's lab sticking out everywhere (he made a mental note to pay the doctor a visit, maybe he could help). Those coupled with the strange circumstances of her arrival made Rumple think she may very well be from another land. If that was true, then she'd found him and communicated with him from across realms. And then her magic combined with his had brought her between worlds. Which made him wonder: could she help him find or even get to Bae? That was a question he would need to be careful answering. She was a child, and had been hurt enough. He had standards. And above that, he had rules.

He followed his rules and rarely bent them. They were what kept him from completely turning into a monster, and what kept the man in him alive. The man was what Bae loved. If the man inside him disappeared, he may forget why he needed to find him, and Bae may very well want nothing to do with him even if he did. Among Rumpelstiltskin's rules was that he did not make deals with children. They were too young, naive, and innocent to know what they were getting into when it came to making deals with the Dark One. And he wouldn't take advantage of that, not even for his own gain.

Another one of his rules, which was much higher on the list than '_Do not make deals with children'_, was quite possibly his topmost and most important rule: '_Rumpelstiltskin does not harm children'._ The one and only exception to this rule was Peter bloody Pan and (unless he could help it) Pan's '_Lost Boys'_, and that was because A: Pan wasn't really technically a child, and B: Pan was more devil than human at this point, so Rumpelstiltskin would probably be doing every realm a favor if he snapped the bastard's neck.

So yes, it would be fantastic if she could help him reunite with Baelfire, but he would never do anything that could possibly hurt her to achieve that goal.

Speaking of the child, she was smiling at him, and the pancakes were gone.

"Those disappeared fast. I'm glad you liked them." Rumple said.

She nodded and set the empty plate back down onto the tray. Then, she spoke. "_Thank- you."_ Her voice was timid and cautious, and her words didn't come out very smoothly, just like when she'd talked to him before, back when they weren't really talking face to face. She spoke as if she didn't speak very often, and as if she was half afraid he'd snap at her for talking. Had she been punished for speaking unless spoken to? Or for speaking at all?

"You're most welcome." He said, picking up the tray and placing it on the dresser. Then he sat back down on the bed, again.

"Now that you've had something to eat, can we please talk? I'm sure you have questions, and I have questions, too. So how about we make a deal- or play a game, of sorts? I'll ask you a question, and you answer me as best as you can, and then you ask me a question. And if you don't want to answer a question, you just have to say so and I'll either skip my turn or ask you a different one. Does that sound fair?"

She looked thoughtful, then she nodded.

"Alright then, I'll go first. Who are you? What's your name, Dearie?"

She shook her head. "Not safe." She said quietly. Her eyes flickered to the window.

"Alright, I'll change my question. Do you think the people at the bad place are looking for you? Coming for you?"

She nodded. Her eyes were harder than the eyes of anyone her age he'd ever seen. No child should have eyes like that.

"And… what do you think they'll do if they find you?" Rumple asked.

She made the shape of a weapon of sorts with her hand. A gun? Yes, it was a gun. He didn't see them too often, but a certain hook handed enemy of his and his pirate crew liked to use them. They were slower to load, but in Rumple's experience, getting shot with a bullet hurt a hell of a lot more than getting shot with an arrow. Not that it did much to him, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. The girl pointed the finger gun right at his head right between his eyes and made a motion with her hand as if firing it. Then she pointed it at her own head and did the same thing. The scary part about it was the look on her face. She was dead serious.

Rumple smiled in a less pleasant and more sadistic way. _So, she thinks they'll kill us both? I think it will be cute to watch them try._

"Dearie, you don't know where you are. This is the Dark Castle. Even if they find you, good luck to them getting in. And if they got in, or if I got tired of tolerating them at my door, whichever came first, they'd get to deal with _me_." He leaned in slightly. "They don't want to deal with me. _Trust me._" And just to prove his point, with a flourish of his hand he was holding a ball of fire. The girl's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and her jaw dropped. He extinguished the fireball. "So you see, there's not nearly as much danger as you seem to think there is. It's alright. So, I'll ask again: what's your name, Dearie?"

She still looked hesitant, but she rolled up the too-long sleeve of the shirt she was wearing. It was one of his, and he'd had it for a long time but had only worn it once and then immediately figured out that yellow was _not _his color. It didn't exactly fit the girl, but it was cleaner than what she had been wearing and he couldn't bring himself to lend her any of Bae's old clothes. She showed him the underside of her arm and pointed to a small tattoo. He knew it was a tattoo because when he'd cleaned her off, he'd tried to wipe it off but it would not come off no matter what he did. He had known that the tattoo meant something, but he hadn't realized what until now. '_011', _it said. She pointed at the tattoo, and then at herself.

"Zero, one, one? Eleven? Yer name is Eleven?" He asked incredulously. She nodded.

Rumple's gut twisted with a mixture of anger, disgust, and grief for this child. She didn't have a name, she had a number. A _number_. She'd never been treated like a child, she was an _object _in the eyes of whoever had given her that tattoo. Rumple's own father had hated him for even existing, and so he'd cursed him from the beginning with a name as ridiculous as _Rumpelstiltskin_. The name literally meant '_little rattle stilt'. 'Stilt'_ was another old and now seldom used word for pot, so his name basically meant '_little man making noise with pots'. _It was _that_ ridiculous. But at least he'd been given an actual name. This poor, poor little girl had a _number_. A number that was _tattooed _on her arm so she would never forget it, and so that anyone who saw it would know she was _property_. Rumple recognized the tattoo for what it was immediately. _A brand. Like a farmer would inflict upon his cattle. _

"Can I call you El, then? Or Ella?" He asked, careful not to let his anger show in his voice or his face, "Short for Eleven?" Eleven smiled at him and nodded. Rumple liked 'El' a lot more than 'Eleven'. It sounded a lot more like an actual name. "Alright, I had my turn. Now it's yours."

She gulped. "Who are you?" She asked.

That was right. He _had _told her that 'Rum' was only a short version of his name. She wanted to know his _whole _name. That was fair. He knew hers now, after all. "I warn you, I don't think you're going to be able to pronounce it." He said. She sat up on her knees, looking at him expectantly. With his signature flourish of his hands, Rumple introduced himself, "Rumpelstiltskin. Also known as, the Dark One."

"Rum-pull… Rumple- Rumplessstuh-"

"Don't hurt yourself, Dearie. 'Rum' or 'Rumple' is fine. Most of the people I know call me Rumple."

"Like… El… for...?" She pointed at the number on her arm.

"Yes. Just like El or Ella is short for Eleven."

She pointed at him. "Oh, that's right. It _is _my turn again, isn't it? Alright, can I ask two questions this time?" She nodded.

"First, do you think it would be okay now if I got a little bit closer to you? Would that be alright?"

She thought for a moment, and then she nodded. Rumple scooted so that he was sitting about three feet away from her. Still cautiously keeping his distance, but much closer than he had been before.

"There we are, that's better. Now for my second question: where are your parents?"

She cocked her head at him. "Par-ents?"

Rumple felt another pang of sadness for her. "You know, your mother and your father?"

"You mean… Papa?"

That was right. She had mentioned her 'Papa' the first time they had spoken. And the way she had talked about him made Rumple worry. Even now, as soon as the topic of her 'Papa' came up, her entire body went from relaxed to alert, almost rigid.

"Dearie, you don't have a very good Papa, do you?"

Again, she looked confused. And Rumple had to wonder if she even knew what it was to have an actual parent in her life.

"Let me explain. A good Papa would love you. Take care of you, protect you, teach you, guide you, be nice to you, give you food, clothes, shelter, and make sure you were happy. And never, under any circumstances, would he _ever_ do anything to hurt you."

'_A good Papa would never let you go.'_ One of the voices added sinisterly. Rumple mentally told it to shut up and go to hell.

Back in the outside world, Rumple was starting to figure out that when it came to communicating with Eleven, you could learn more from watching her gestures, body language, and facial expressions than from her words. And when he explained to her what a good parent was supposed to be like, Eleven looked thoughtful, but also very sad.

"Does your Papa do any of those things?" He asked.

"Papa… takes care of me." Eleven said. "He teaches me. He brings me food when I'm good. But…"

"But?"

She sniffed. "He doesn't… protect me… always. And he can be nice… or scary. It doesn't matter… if I am happy. As long as I do what I'm told."

"And what _are _you told?" Rumple asked. His fingers were tightening into fists.

"Sometimes we play games. But other times… he makes me move things, or find people, or… hurt."

"Hurt? How?"

"My turn." She said. In a tone that clearly said she didn't want to answer that last question.

"You're right. I keep asking too many questions when it's my turn." Rumple said. "It's your turn."

"Two?" Eleven asked.

He supposed it was only fair, since he had taken a turn and asked two questions. "I don't see why not." Rumple said.

"What is… 'love'?"

It was official. He was going to _skin _whoever had raised Eleven if he ever got his hands on them. _What is 'love'?_ That there was a loaded question. And it was an answer that every child should just _know _the answer to. But the fact that Eleven had clearly never heard the word before and had ever been shown love made it nearly impossible to explain what it was. And love was such a grand, complicated thing that the word itself, 'love', was a word that could never possibly ever have one definition that covered what it was.

"That's a very difficult question, Dearie." Rumple said. "Love is… it's very complex. I don't think I can put it into words. Someone I loved told me once that love was a mystery to be unraveled. And I think that in a sense, she was right. It's- it's a very positive thing that you feel towards someone or something you really like or respect. If you love someone, then you feel a desire to protect them. It's just- it's more than one emotion, it really is. And I think you're going to have to figure out what that '_love'_ means for yourself, Dearie." He chuckled. "I hope your next question is a little easier to answer."

"Can we… can we go outside?" She asked, looking out the window longingly.

Rumple smiled. "I don't see why not."

* * *

Before they went outside, Rumpelstiltskin (she doubted she'd ever be able to say that name out loud successfully) produced some clothes for her out of thin air (literally) and told her that it would be best if she put on some proper clothes before going outside. Eleven didn't quite understand why, seeing as the oversized shirt she had been wearing fit her about as well as the gown she always wore did, except that it had long sleeves. She also didn't understand why he had nearly jumped out of his skin and turned around when she had started to pull the shirt over her head. He had wanted her to get dressed, didn't he? Someone almost always watched her get dressed, and because that was how it had been all her life, it didn't bother her.

He was very strange in more ways than one, but Eleven still liked him more than anyone else she'd ever met. He was kind, and his mannerisms made her smile. '_But_,' doubt whispered in the back of her mind, '_you only just met. He could be just like Papa.'_

The clothes he gave her were… odd. For one thing, the only thing Eleven had ever worn that actually fit her was the outfit they made her wear when they put her in the tank to search. This fit her upper body well, but was flowing on her lower half like the gown. Rumple said it was called a '_dress'_. It was nothing nearly as elaborate as the leather and silk Rumple was wearing, but Eleven still really liked it when she looked at herself in the mirror. It was yellow, red, and white, and she found it surprisingly comfortable. She'd never gotten to wear anything so colorful before. She liked it even more when Rumple looked at her with approval when he saw her wearing it. "There we are. How pretty." He said.

Eleven had heard that word before, and she understood what it meant. But no one had ever used it to describe her before. It was a word people used to describe things when they liked the way they looked. It made Eleven feel good in a way she'd never felt good before. It made her look at him and ask herself whether or not she liked the way _he_ looked. His appearance was strange, but Eleven didn't think it was ugly. The creature Papa had asked her to find, the one that she had fled from before finding Rum, _that thing _was ugly. Rumpelstiltskin was… different, but call it positive association, but she kind of liked the slight golden hue of his skin. And the colors of his clothes went nicely with it. Coming to her conclusion, Eleven had no hesitation when she smiled, pointed at him, and said, "Pretty."

He looked very taken back, and also a little sad when she told him that. Maybe that was another way he was like her, and yet not like her. Maybe he'd never been told he was pretty, either. "Thank you, Dearie. But you don't have to lie. I know I'm just an old monster."

Was that really what he thought? Eleven had seen a monster before. It had black skin, an unnatural body, long claws, no face, and a mouth that opened like a star covered in sharp teeth. _That _was a monster. Eleven shook her head, pointed at herself, then pointed at him twice. "Pretty." She said with a little more firmness.

He still looked like he didn't believe her, but he still replied, "It's nice that someone thinks so."

Then, he kept his word, and he led her out of her room, which was at the top of a tall tower, down a great many stairs, through the castle (Eleven couldn't believe the size of the place. It had to be bigger than the lab), and out the front doors.

The courtyard like no place Eleven had ever seen. She hadn't known that a place like this could really exist. She had seen it out the window, but it didn't compare to actually being outside. A brick and marble path led from the castle's gates to the front door and throughout the gardens. Between lucious bushes of beautiful red flowers Rumple said were called _roses_, around two big, beautiful marble fountains, and beneath enormous trees.

Eleven was so overwhelmed by the sheer vastness of it all that she had to sit down on the steps and just take it all in. Rumple was cautious about it, and he still sat with a little distance between them, but he sat down on the steps beside her.

They sat in a comfortable silence for some time before Eleven finally muttered, "Pretty."

"I'm glad you like my home," Rumple said. "Because I'd like it to be your home, too."

Eleven looked at him. What was he talking about?

"I had a son a very long time ago." Rumple told her. "I lost him, he was only a few years older than you. His name was Baelfire, but I called him Bae. Just like how 'El' is short for 'Eleven' or 'Rumple' is short for 'Rumpelstiltskin'. I hope to find Bae again someday. And when I do, I don't think Bae would mind having a little sister. What I'm trying to ask dearie, is if you would like to stay here with me? I would like to take care of you, Eleven. Because it's clear to me that no one else ever has. So if you don't mind, I'd like to be your Papa, Dearie. And I'd like to teach you what a 'Papa' is _supposed_ to be. Would you like that?"

Eleven was shocked. A new Papa. A new life. A new start. A _home_. No more experiments, no more lab coats, no more being locked in the small room, no more looking for monsters, no more pain. Eleven couldn't stop herself from grinning, and she nodded more enthusiastically than she ever had before.

After that, Rumpelstiltskin took her on a walk and showed her the grounds, still keeping a respectable distance. They spoke of a great many things, though it was he who did most of the actual talking. And Eleven could not remember ever feeling safer or more content in all the days of her life. But by the time they were walking by the pond, which wasn't very long at all, they were walking comfortably side by side as though they had always been. And by the time the sun was setting and Rumpelstiltskin, her Papa, was leading her back inside for dinner (Eleven hoped they were having more pancakes), Eleven knew in her heart that this was exactly where she was meant to be.


End file.
